


Painting a Better Scene

by whovian1243



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Painter!isak, art class, secret monster, who even knows lmfao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 14:34:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16518326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whovian1243/pseuds/whovian1243
Summary: Isak is forced to take an extra elective, but doesn't know what to pick. Even suggests art class, and Isak turns out to be suprisingly good at it





	Painting a Better Scene

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ihatefindingusernames](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihatefindingusernames/gifts).



> Y'all this fic is for my babe Mia!!!!!! my love im so sorry its a bit late but ilysm and i hope you like it!!
> 
> Its part of the secret monster thing but like,,, its not very spooky at all so who knows rip
> 
> Unbetaed, so if it's shit the blame is all mine. Also I haven't written anything in a good solid six or so months so like,,,, rip
> 
> But anyway mia i love u i hope u like it ily

Isak threw his bag under his chair, sighing and dropping his head to the table.  
“What the fuck am I supposed to do for a sixth subject? I have everything I need for med already, fuck this.”  
The boys all gave him quizzical looks, so Isak elaborated. “The school is making me take a sixth subject, apparently it’s mandatory for second years. I don’t want to, as I’m going into medicine and am taking all the courses I need for it, but they’re spouting some bullshit about ‘keeping my options open’ or some kind of fuckery. So now I have to waste my time with PE or some shit instead of focusing on what I need to be doing.”  
Isak groaned, and Jonas clapped him on the back.  
“Sucks, dude. What’re you going to pick?”  
“You could join my art class?” A cheery voice popped up behind Isak. “Very easy, and not too many people in it. You might find it therapeutic, almost.”  
Even slumped in between Isak and Magnus, long legs stretching out into the aisleway and balancing his elbows on the table, staring straight at Isak, mouth firm but blue eyes sparkling with uncontainable mirth. Isak rolled his eyes to the ceiling and held them there.  
“Me? In art class?” Isak exclaimed at the same moment the boys started howling with laughter.  
“Isak doesn’t have the patience for that shit! Isak, painting? That’s absolutely hilarious, Even, you’re dreaming, are you forgetting that Isak couldn’t draw a stick figure if you asked him to?”  
Even laughed. “Actually, painting requires a lot of precision that is also useful for surgery. If Isak can’t slap paint on a canvas then he’s sure as shit not going to be cutting anybody open.”  
The boys turned to Isak at that, letting out a low whistle. Isak bit his lip, cornered.   
He weighed the pros and cons in his mind. He would have to deal with art class, spending time on it and submitting work for it. But, he would get to spend more time with Even.  
In the end it was an easy decision.  
“Fine! Fuck, I’ll join your art class.” The boys all whooped and Even smiled at Isak, which made his heart swell and, in all honesty, he really didn’t feel all that remorseful about his choice.

“Okay, Isak, painting! What do you know about it?”  
Isak raised an eyebrow at Even, a scathing look on his face. “Oh I’m basically Picasso. I know everything there is to know about paint, I was just hiding it from you this whole time.”  
Even laughed, and Isak let a small satisfied smile climb onto his features. He began rifling through the tub in front of him, sorting through the colours and finding some he liked.   
Even walked to another box, and pulled out a set of soft blue watercolours. He matched it with a box of pink and orange, and Isak suddenly felt very childish with the bright acrylic colours stashed in his arms. Determined to make it work though, he headed back to his bench and flattened out the paper to the best of his ability.  
“Isak? What are you doing?” Even called out.  
“Trying to flatten this fucking sheet of paper, how the fuck do you- Oh.”  
Even had used some kind of tool to pinch the corners of his page, leaving it stretched taut. Isak looked up at Even wordlessly, trying to ask where to get one without admitting defeat, and Even smirked and obliged, pointing to a rack of them on the far wall.  
Isak grabbed one and fiddled with it, and after fifteen minutes of refusing to ask Even to help him figure it out he finally got it working and smiled proudly.  
He turned to Even to tell him that he did it, but stopped when he saw what Even had done in the time it took Isak to make his setup.

It was a pair of hands, well, two people passing a blunt. It was drawn in pencil, as a sketch, with a vague outline of a sunset in the background and the focus on the fingers grasping the joint. They were touching slightly, the hands, and Isak thought he could distinguish Even’s signature watch he always wore on the hand on the right.  
“Wow,” Isak muttered softly. Even looked up, and smiled brightly.  
“You like it?” His voice was mostly calm but it had a touch of nervousness that had Isak absolutely showering the piece in compliments.  
“Like it? Even, this is the best piece of fucking art I’ve ever seen, oh my god.”  
Even laughed. “That would change if you’d ever been to a museum, Isak.” But his voice was filled with warmth and happiness, and his smile was something that made Isak smile.  
“Is that your watch?” Isak asked, pointing at the detailed leather band and clock face.   
“Oh, yeah! You noticed that?” His voice sounded both hopeful and apprehensive, like he wanted Isak to see it but also not at the same time. It confused him.  
“Yeah! If that’s you, who’s the other person then?”   
Even opened his mouth, shut it again, and a pink tinge appeared in his cheeks.  
“No one, really, it’s not even supposed to be my hand. I just wanted to draw the watch, to be honest, and it sort of just happened. Anyway, how’s yours coming along?”  
Isak blushed and stuttered, and Even looked confused. “Did you start again, or something?”  
“No…” Isak trailed off. “Oh fuck it. I only just got the clippy thing to work. It wouldn’t open for me at first and I didn’t want to ask you to fix it for me.”  
Even pushed his lips together, trying to contain a laugh. “Why ever not, Isak? I know you’ve never taken an art class and those things are confusing without instruction.”  
Isak shrugged. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter now, I’m painting!”  
He opened a tube of red and dolloped half of it on an old ice cream lid, and swirled his brush through it, twisting and flicking little drops of paint across the whole surface.  
Even had his fingers in his mouth, biting his nails, but he chose not to intervene.  
“What should I paint?” Isak asked, holding his brush similar to how you hold a fork.  
“First of all, put the brush down. Second of all, take this pencil, and sketch your design. Third of all, once you’ve figured out what colours you need I will put them on the palette for you. You’re wasting so much.”   
Even moved closer, taking the brush from Isak’s hand. He set it down and reached past Isak for the water jug, pressing their chests together and placing a hand on Isak’s shoulder to steady himself, but started pressing gently with it, moving it almost imperceptibly back and forth. Isak inhaled quickly, (but quietly, thank fuck) and held it while Even stretched past him. He smelled like paint, maybe because Isak had flicked him with it by accident, and he smelled of clean laundry, and a hint of charcoal. Isak catalogued it, and exhaled softly before breathing back in deeply. He fought the urge to close his eyes.  
Man, he was fucked.  
Even brought his arm back, and took his hand off Isak. He plunged the brush into the small pot and cleaned it with his fingers, removing the bright red paint before drying the bristles with a nearby towel. He smiled at Isak, before motioning to his still blank canvas.   
“What did you want to draw?”  
Isak, still reeling from moments ago, blinked and shrugged. “Not-not sure,” he coughed, steeling himself to meet Even’s blue eyes and act like nothing had happened. “What do you think? Please make it simple.”  
Even laughed. “Okay. Considering it’s almost Halloween, how about you draw a pumpkin? You can make the carving read whatever you like that way, as simple or complex as you want.”  
Isak, a less avid fan of Halloween than Even, was about to launch on a tirade of why the idea sucked and that he should NOT draw a pumpkin, because the Celts didn’t even use pumpkins originally and that it was a highly commercialised American thing, (apparently he’d been spending too much time around Jonas) and besides it was the beginning of October and Halloween wasn’t for weeks yet when he caught sight of Even’s expression. His eyes were crinkled up at the corners, and lips were split in a grin. He knew Isak would get riled up, and Isak was about to get riled up at that when he noticed Even’s large canines were exposed, his eyes sparkling with mirth and the sight was beautiful enough to make Isak falter.  
“What?” Isak questioned, willing his blush away. The effort probably just made him redder.   
“But it’s the spirit of Halloween! It’s basically an American tradition now anyway so you might as well get used to it. It’s fun, Isak, and I doubt drawing a turnip with a face is going to look as nice in the end.”  
“I’m painting, the fuck kind of nice are you hoping for?” Isak muttered, but snatched the orange tube of paint from the table. He flipped the cap and was going to squirt some out, but Even took it and replaced it with a pencil.  
“Sketch. First.” He enunciated clearly, pointedly looking at the graylead in Isak’s fingers. Isak rolled his eyes but nodded in acquiescence, and searched up a picture of a pumpkin on his phone to copy.

Around ten minutes later, Isak had a pretty fine drawing of a pumpkin. Or rather, a fine idea of a drawing for a pumpkin, but no idea of how to get what he was planning on paper. He was thinking of drawing a lit cigarette, with the light of the candle from inside the pumpkin pouring out of the end of the smoke brighter than the rest, but what he envisioned in his mind simply wasn’t coming out on the canvas. He groaned in frustration, and Even popped his head around to look at his progress.   
“What’s wrong?” He asks, glancing from the paper to Isak and back again.   
“I can’t get the stupid drawing to look like what I imagined.” The pumpkin itself was nicely drawn, but the cigarette was much larger on the lit end than the small one. “I want it to be slightly smaller than the bigger end but not quite as big, you know?”  
Even apparently did know, as he took up his own pencil and drew a couple lines, making the whole thing seem a lot more put together. “Like that?” He asked as he erased some of Isak’s original lines, and the odd tube actually looked a bit more like a cigarette than before.   
“What the actual fuck, Even? You made it look so easy! But thanks, I guess.” Isak pouted, pissed he spent so much time on it but glad it was fixed.  
Even laughed. “It’s about angles. You have to figure out how the cigarette looks in your head, and which way it’s facing and all that. Can I ask why you picked a cigarette though?”  
“I thought I could use the light inside the pumpkin to make it seem like it was lit, and it’d kind of look like a real one and be pretty cool.”  
Even raised his eyebrows. “That’s impressive, I don’t think I would have thought of that. I’m excited to see how it turns out, you really thought out of the box with that.”  
Something in Isak’s stomach fluttered when Even complimented him, but he brushed it aside and focused back on his painting, mumbling a thanks as he finally picked up the orange paint and squirted a huge dump on his palette.  
“Isak! Fuck, that was so much!” Even cried. “You need maybe half that, probably less! Oh my god!” Isak laughed at him, and opened the white. “Nope!” Even took it from him and placed a considerably tiny spot next to the overflowing orange lump.   
“Thanks for the help Even!” Isak smiled, and Even rolled his eyes and placed the paint down on his own bench. Isak got to work, working from the outside in and welding the orange and the white together so that it looked brighter in the centre of the pumpkin.

He drew a rough outline of the cigarette over the top of the orange oval (because that was exactly what it looked like, let’s be honest,) and decisively started colouring from the edges of the smoke up toward the pumpkin.   
That strategy worked, until he was finished, and was left with a white ciggy in a lumpy orange shape, and he realised his next problem.  
Isak didn’t know how to blend colours.  
“Uhhhh, Even?” He asked, looking warily at his piece. “How do you blend colours?”  
Even looked over, and chuckled. “Okay, it’s not that hard. For the pumpkin-y type feel you’re going for you basically want some slightly lighter orange for the parts of the pumpkin that are only partially carved. Try the smoke trails on the right there, trace those up.”  
Isak did, but the result didn’t quite work out. Even smiled, rubbed the paint away and gestured for him to try again.   
This happened six times before Even took the brush and said “look here, copy what I do.”  
He moved his hands softly up the canvas, creating a perfect spiral that undulated nicely and curled softly at the top. Even smirked, and handed the brush back to Isak, but he wouldn’t take it, because he’d thrown his hands up in disbelief.  
“Did you sell your soul for that, or something, what the fuck!” Isak flicked a spot of paint at Even, and a bright orange spot landed on the middle of his cheek. Even gasped, wiped it off but only succeeded in smudging it further, and quirked his eyebrow, facing Isak with a glint in his eye.  
“War’s on, motherfucker.” He flicked some of his own blue paint at Isak, who cried out, trying to rub it away, and took his own palette in his hand. He used the brush to lever the paint without getting it on his fingers, and it sort of worked, except he got a handful of Even’s blue colour over his shirt and swore loudly.  
They continued flicking paint at each other, getting more and more filthy until Even got the tube of blue, and squeezed it over Isak’s head. They both stopped in shock, Isak’s mouth opening slowly in shock and fury, getting ready to unleash a stream of curse words that would make an Irishman proud, when the voice of Mr Larsen piped up from the front of the room.  
“Oi! You two! Stop wasting the paint! Even, I would have expected more from you.” He shook his head ruefully and went back to his paper, muttering something indistinguishable.  
Even looked downcast, and placed the now empty tub back on the table. People started packing up, and the boys saw with a shock there was only five minutes left of class. They cleared up their things too, hanging their paintings to dry on a rack, and when the bell rang they exited the room together, heading to the nearest bathroom as they were still covered in paint.

 

Isak reached into the paint box with a confidence the past few weeks had given him, pulling out a soft orange and brown combo. He brought the tubs back to his desk, and ladelled them onto his palette.  
He was starting to get quite good at this. Despite his rough start, his work was quickly improving in quality, and his pieces were beginning to reflect some level of competency in the craft.  
What had not changed, however, was Isak’s attitude toward painting.  
“It’s useless!” he cried, yet again voicing his frustrations on a hapless Even. “What classes did you take in order to get into medicine? Painting and Drawing? Oh the most important subject to study! Splatting red and green on a canvas is sure fire going to help you remember what the fuck a splenius cervicis is!”   
Even laughed, and rolled his eyes. Isak turned to him and stared, daring him to contradict. “I’m right, though. Sorry for shitting on your favourite subject though.”  
Chuckling, Even shook his head. “They’re not gonna care. You had to take another subject, and you picked art. It may not help a whole lot but it certainly doesn’t hinder.”  
“But it’s time! It’s time I could be studying chemistry or doing my math homework, but instead I’m sitting here chucking paint on paper like a kindergartner.”  
Even nodded to his half finished work. “Doesn’t look like a kindergartner drew that to me.”  
Isak turned to his easel, and surveyed the picture of the woman he’d been painting until him missing a stroke had him moaning about his life. She looked a little bit like his younger sister, Lea, he guessed. He didn’t meant to paint her, but it just kind of happened, it seemed. Her face was lit up in a smile, and she was in the middle of a forest utterly surrounded by red and orange leaves cascading to the ground. The colours were taking on a warmer hue as Isak welded them into each other and left the leaves in piles on the ground.  
It was beautiful, a stunning work of art, but Isak simply saw time and energy in it, noticing the minute flaws zoomed up close rather than admiring the whole picture.  
“Isak, you’re not wasting your time here, this is absolutely incredible work. You seem partial to painting people, and you’re very good at it. Are you sure you don’t paint in your spare time?”   
Isak coughed, and swore. “Yes, there is no way I do this of my own volition in my time. When I’m not sleeping, here or choking down two minute noodles I’m reading my textbooks and making notes. Kind of sad, to be completely honest.”  
Even didn’t disagree. “But it’s also ambitious of you, and very admirable. However, it’s not entirely, how do I say, healthy, so this is really good for you to get out of your room. You should join me after school on Tuesdays, I come for an hour and a half every day. It’s just me, most of the time, so we’d be alone, and it relaxes me so much. What do you say?”  
Isak, having caught the words “with me,” and “alone,” began mentally cataloguing the study he normally does after school on Tuesdays and filing it to Thursdays after his math homework. “I think I could fit that in,” he smiled.  
Even smiled too, brightly and excitedly, and Isak found himself longing for next week.

It was the Tuesday before Halloween, five minutes past three in the afternoon and Isak made his way downstairs into the art wing. Phone clutched in his hand and bag slung over his shoulder, he stepped into the room, greeting Even with a smile, and dumped his stuff on the table next to him. He wandered over to Even, who’d already started continuing his piece from last class, a landscape type thing with an abandoned house and bats and pumpkins everywhere, with a bright orange sunset.  
Even was geared up for Halloween.  
“What should I paint? Isak asked, taking a chair nearby and sitting down on it backwards. “Oh wait, don’t answer, you’re going to say something Halloween themed.”  
Even smiled. “You know me too well! Fine, what about some people? The last picture you painted was absolutely beautiful, you know.”  
Isak suddenly got an idea, something that Even would really love, if he did it well. He walked over to the paint box and pulled out some colours that were typically autumn themed, as well as some darker blues and reds.  
“Did you come up with something?” Even asked. Isak nodded. “But you aren’t allowed to look, until I’m done.”  
“Oooh, a surprise. Nice!”  
Isak turned his canvas away from Even, and pulled out his pencil and started sketching.

An hour and a half later, Even started packing up his things. Isak looked up, startled, noticing how quickly the hour and a half had gone by, and immediately made a noise of distress because his piece wasn’t quite done and he’d wanted to show it to Even before they left.  
“What?” Even asked, laying his paper on the tray. “You alright?”  
Isak nodded his head, but bit his lip. “I’m not finished.” He said. “I wanted to be done, but I’m not!” Isak was frustrated, far more than he thought, but then Even came through as per usual.  
“You can stay a little longer if you need. I can wait for you, I need to be the last out anyway to lock up.”  
Isak shook his head. “I don’t wanna keep you, and I have to study.”  
Even laughed. “Isak, I saw how suprised you were when the time was up. Keep going, I won’t even look yet.” He placed his hands over his eyes in a big motion, a smile on his face, and Isak felt one crawling up on his own. “Alright, thanks. Should only be twenty minutes or so.”  
“Take as much time as you need.”

Twenty-five minutes later, Isak set down his brush. “Done.” He called, inhaling sharply. “Come look, if you want.”  
Even turned off his phone and moved behind Isak, to look at what he’d spent the past few hours creating, and his jaw dropped.  
“Isak, I-” He was rendered speechless as he took in the painting.  
It was of the two of them, inside a room and standing in front of a large window. They were standing to the left of it, paint brushes in hand, and were seemingly working over the cold and rainy sky outside and turning it into a brightly coloured autumnal masterpiece. Inside the building there was a fireplace, burning, with two mugs of steaming liquid (presumably coffee, as this was Isak’s painting) sitting on top of the mantel. The picture-Even had his hand resting on picture-Isak’s back, as he reached up to get the corner of the window.   
It was a stunning picture, and Even was blown away by the pure talent Isak had shown.  
“Wow.” he whispered, moving his hand to Isak’s back exactly like picture him was doing. “Isak holy shit. This is incredible.”  
“I dunno, it’s alright. Could be better but oh well.” Isak immediately started deflecting the praise, but Even interrupted him. “No, I mean it. It’s incredible, you did an amazing job, it’s utterly beautiful. I love it.”  
Isak blushed deeply. “Thanks,” he muttered. “I kind of did it to surprise you, it was a bit of a metaphor, for like, how I was always so gloomy beforehand, and you’re helping me kind of ‘paint’ quote unquote, a more enjoyable scene. I dunno it’s kinda lame but it looks cool. I think.”  
Even moved his hand to the back of Isak’s neck, pulling him in closer. “Isak I think I love you.” He whispered, voice quiet. Isak turned his head, so that their foreheads were pressing together.  
“Fuck, Even, I know I love you.”  
Even laughed, and pressed their lips together. “Happy Halloween, baby.” He mumbled, once they’d broken apart. Isak rolled his eyes and clearly intended to say something along the lines of fuck off, but met Even’s eyes before the words left his mouth, and instead they morphed into something different.  
“Happy Halloween.”


End file.
